


scars of gold

by cloudko



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Ash Lynx Lives, Ash Lynx Needs A Hug, Everyone Loves Okumura Eiji, Fluff, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Nightmares, Past Rape/Non-con, Trauma, but it's ash so you know..., mostly canon-compliant, nothing graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:46:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25814515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudko/pseuds/cloudko
Summary: In the wake of one of Ash's nightmares, Eiji tells him about Kintsugi, the ancient Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with gold. Ash begins to heal.
Relationships: Ash Lynx/Okumura Eiji
Comments: 11
Kudos: 177





	scars of gold

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this in one sitting after reading an article about kintsugi and i figured i might as well post it because there isn't enough hope in this fandom. anyways, here's some self-indulgent soft content of ash accepting eiji's help with healing from his past.

Ash wakes up gasping, images going through his head at the speed of cameras flashing. 

The room is dark, but bits of light stretch across the ceiling from above the curtains he opens less and less with each passing day. There’s humming from the cooling system in their building, and cars honking in the distance. He tries to slow his heart, placing a palm against his chest and feeling the too-fast rise and fall of unsteady breaths. It was just a dream. 

They come less frequently than before but are more filled with fear than ever. Sometimes he isn’t the one beneath the hands, sometimes the face turns softer and the hair darker. Those are the nights when he wakes up with such a deep sense of terror he can’t breathe until he sees the peacefully sleeping form in the bed beside his. His hands shake as he buries them in the blankets next to the person whose safety means more to him than anything else. 

Sometimes he’ll scream, and wake up with a sore throat and tear-streaked cheeks. He knows he isn’t the only one awake but is never asked to explain. Sometimes he can’t sleep at all, sitting on the floor and listening to the steady inhales and exhales next to him. 

Tonight, he knows Eiji is awake. His throat feels raw, and the line of Eiji’s shoulders is too tense for him to be asleep. It’s been months of this, months of Ash doing everything to endure the ghosts of his past alone. But something about the sight from his nightmare, the way the beautiful face contorted in pain and fear, makes his flimsy resolve crack. 

“Eiji.”

His voice is rough, barely a whisper, but Eiji immediately turns over. His eyes are wide in the dim lighting.

“Ash?”

He tries to respond, but his voice catches in his throat. Before he can try again, Eiji is practically falling over rushing to him. He stops an inch from Ash’s bed, hands outstretched but not coming closer. The uncertainty in his face makes Ash ache. He’s afraid of being pushed away, and rightfully so. But Ash is done trying to bear his pain alone. He reaches out, clasping his hand in Eiji’s and gently tugging him forward. 

“Eiji,” he says. It seems to be all he can say, the only thing worth saying. 

“You’re not alone,” Eiji says, voice far too soft for the early morning hour. He pulls Ash against him, one hand cradling the back of his neck and one holding his back. The touch is so gentle, too gentle to be for someone with as much blood on his hands as Ash. “I’m by your side.”

With those words, spoken against the crown of his head and seeped with sincerity, Ash crumbles. His spine seems to dissolve, curling him into Eiji. 

He can’t hear the sound of his crying, only listens to the steady beating of Eiji’s heart beneath his ear. His tears turn his shirt damp but never once does he loosen his grip or try to push Ash away. He isn’t sure how long they stay in that position, him falling apart and finally making space to be put back together again. Eiji’s hands never leave him, he never stops whispering reassurances into the blond hair messy from a fitful sleep. 

When the tears stop the sun is just beginning to rise, light peaking in around the curtains and the sounds of life returning to the city. They’re lying down, Ash curled into Eiji’s chest and hands clutching his shirt. His breathing is slow, in tandem with Eiji’s; just like his heart. There’s a feeling of relief in the air, a sense of something broken but not shattered. 

When he finally opens his eyes and allows the world to come back to him, his first instinct is to pull away and stop burdening Eiji with his pain. But before the thought can become a movement, he feels the vibration against his cheek as Eiji begins humming. It’s the first time he’s heard the song, but something about it silences his guilt. He frowns when it stops, but before he can protest, Eiji speaks. 

“In Japanese pottery, there is an art called Kintsugi. It is a way of repairing broken pottery.” Eiji smiles at him, voice so soft. “Rather than trying to conceal the cracks from the damage, the pottery is repaired with gold. This honors the history of the piece and the damage it endured. The piece is given a second life without erasing its scars.”

Ash feels him run a hand through his hair, smoothing it away from his forehead. Eiji traces a line over his cheek, where a switchblade once drew blood. His touch is featherlight. 

“Kintsugi accepts the change and turns the piece into something even more beautiful than before. The cracks become veins of gold making the pottery a unique treasure.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, looking at Ash to make sure he’s listening. He is, and he knows what Eiji’s trying to say.

“Being broken is not a bad thing. It is something to be proud of.” 

Ash knows he’s crying again, but he isn’t afraid of Eiji seeing his tears. 

“Your scars are precious, Ash.” 

“Eiji,” he says again, but he doesn’t know what he’s trying to say. “Thank you.”

“You have nothing to thank me for,” Eiji says, smiling up to his eyes. 

“No,” Ash says, grabbing Eiji’s arm to haul himself upright and look him in the eye. “Thank you, Eiji, for caring about me, despite my past. You’re the only person to be kind to me without wanting something from me. And that’s worth more to me than anything else”

“You’ll never have to feel so alone again.” Eiji sounds so sincere Ash almost believes him. “I’ll always be by your side.” 

He holds his gaze, and Ash knows he means it. Knows he’ll be there as Ash starts to heal, no matter how messy it gets. It won’t be easy remembering how to live without fear, but Eiji will be with him through every nightmare and flashback, and that makes all of the pain worth it. 

The moment is interrupted by Ash’s stomach grumbling, and Eiji laughs while he tries to push him away. 

“Sounds like it’s time for breakfast.”

“I want American food, I deserve to be unhealthy,” Ash whines, as Eiji disappears into the kitchen, no doubt on his way to make some Japanese dish that’s good for him but bad for his taste buds. 

“I cook, I choose!” Eiji calls.

Ash groans, curling into his pillow. The fragrance of Eiji’s shampoo lingers around him. Bits of light that escaped the curtains scatter around the room. His body feels light— like a drain opened and let out some of the sadness. He smells coffee and hears the familiar sounds of Eiji knocking around in the next room. 

So this is what happiness feels like, he thinks.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope someone finds this and enjoys it, and maybe it provides a brief escape from the banana fish sadness that haunts me in every waking hour


End file.
